Page 22 of Drowning Her

Instinct surged inside of me. I went back to my family.

“The one with the black hair,” I said. Forrest gestured to Sawyer, signaling for him to begin.

“Daniels,” Sawyer said, motioning with his hand. Black Hair sighed and stood, coming up to the three of us, trying hard to seem like he wasn’t the disrespectful little shit that he was. “The rest of you can go,” Sawyer added. Black Hair turned to Forrest, making small talk. The procession of employees left the barn. I got dressed, pulling on my black leather gloves.

The door closed, and Forrest instantly went from his charming bastard persona to nothing, his face empty. I stepped forward.

“What’s this about?” Black Hair asked. “Am I being promoted to hunting?”

Sawyer grinned, then pulled out his gun. “You stole from our family.”

Black Hair lifted his hands in defense. “I didn’t steal any?—”

I bashed a fist into his skull. He threw punches back at me, but within a few seconds, he was on the ground, grasping his bloody nose. I grabbed him by the throat, dragging him to the barn doors. Sawyer pulled down the gate in the back of the truck, and I jumped up, pulling Black Hair with me.

“Lay down,” I ordered. He didn’t move. I railed into him. He cowered, whimpering like a little bitch, then finally laid down. “Don’t move.”

I slid into the driver’s seat. Sawyer hit the back of the truck, then got out his gun, ready to keep Black Hair in line if he tried to escape. As we passed my house, I saw Maisie’s shadow standing at the edge of the yard. Waiting for me. She was following me again.

At that instant, Black Hair lunged out of the side, rolling onto the pasture. I slammed on the brakes, then ran after him. I pulled out my gun, holding it to his head, his body instantly freezing.

“Not another inch,” I growled, my dick bulging.

Grass shuffled behind us, the wind mixing with footsteps. How much could Maisie see?

Why was I letting her follow me?

I put Black Hair in a chokehold, dragging him to the Dairy Barn. He stomped his feet, trying to push off the ground to get away. The stars rose over the fields, the chirping crickets serenading the sleeping cattle. The Dairy Barn was silent. We had been lucky to have a break in livestock orders at the exact right moment to take care of one of our own.

I pulled Black Hair into the barn with me. Maisie hovered in the distance, stomping after us, faster now, knowing that I was about to disappear into the forbidden Dairy Barn. I left it unlocked. What would I do when she found me? Would I finally kill her? Or would that prove that I cared?

The lights flickered on, and the electricity hummed, waking up with the barn. I turned on the video cameras and put on the right clothes, keeping an eye on Black Hair’s panicking face.

If Maisie wanted to follow me so badly, then I would let her.

Chapter 8

Maisie

Light flickeredthrough the spaces between the wooden planks of the Dairy Barn. I had been brave, ready to follow Wilder and figure out exactly whatworkmeant, until he went inside of the barn. I had seen it before and knew not to go inside. No one had let me come this far before. Dread grew inside of me, like someone might come out and stop me. Like Wilder might reach from behind me and pull me back.

But no one did.

Had Wilder carried a bag? A person? Cement powder? The night sky was empty, making it hard to see. Half of the barn was painted red, while the rest of the wood was still natural, a half-finished project, despite how many men the Feldmans had working for them.

If I went in there, I wouldn’t be able to take it back.

But I had done worse. I had seen things. Done things. More than most people had. Seeing what my husband did when he was ‘working’ couldn’t be thatsurprising. Maybe they were milking the cattle in there. That was the only explanation.

I slid the door open, cracking it enough to let myself through, then immediately hid behind a few large crates. A man’s wailing carried through the air. I peeked around the corner of the crate. Troughs, batteries, corrals, and pens. A few hay bales. Surveillance cameras reached forward out of every corner, but the cords had been cut, dangling to the side. Other cameras dotted the building, including one large camera, pointed directly at the pen, the lens poking through the rails.

Wilder was wearing all black, even black leather gloves, and a full mask covering his head, exposing only his stormy blue eyes. A man with black hair was kneeling before him, blood gushing from his calves, spilling onto the dusty floor. The man twisted, trying to get away, but Wilder fought him. He bared his teeth—I knew that look, had seen it in the playground by my parents’ house. Had seen it when he kneeled on my chest, waterboarding me. Wilder pulled the man into his grip. The man reached for the wall, trying to pull himself up, but Wilder stabbed his hand with a knife, nailing him to the wall. The man howled, blood oozing from the puncture, and I pulled back, hiding, my vision blurring. I rubbed my fingertips across my hand, touching that thick scar.

That night we had been playing cards when Green got up to go to the bathroom. Bambi handed me her wallet, stuffed with a few hundred dollars. Green never gave us that much.

Where’d you get that?I had asked.A tip?She shook her head, then pointed to the bathroom.You stole it from Green?I asked.Bambi, why would you?—

The bathroom door opened, and I shoved the wallet into my purse. Green smiled at us, then rubbed my back.

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